


Blackwatch Brews

by smarshtastic



Series: SALTapalooza [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: Blackwatch Brews is a tight-knit crew. Gabe has run the shop for years, since before the neighborhood became one of those “up and coming” areas of the city and young, alternative types started moving in. Rents went up and Gabe was forced to sell the shop to the Overwatch Collective just to keep his head above water. Overwatch promised that Gabe would be able to maintain most of his independence for just a small share of the profits. Thus far, they’ve kept their promise and Gabe has been able to run the business as he sees fit. He has a crew of loyal, hardworking employees - Stef, Prithi, Fred, the Newton twins and even Michael - a coterie of regulars, and enough foot traffic to keep the Overwatch corporate goons from breathing down their necks.Gabe loves what he does and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.---This is a coffee shop AU.





	Blackwatch Brews

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> Welcome to Week Two of [SALTapalooza](https://saltapalooza.tumblr.com/)! Today's prompt was "AU of Choice" and I have no idea why we haven't gotten a coffee shop AU yet, but. Here we are. 
> 
> Reminder that this is a fourteen part series that will update every Saturday for the next ~~thirteen~~ twelve weeks! 
> 
> Feel free to come yell saltily about this project at [me](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic/) or [fabrega](https://twitter.com/carithlee) on twitter!

“He’s out there again,” Stef says, letting herself in the back door. It’s still mostly dark outside, the early morning fog obscuring what little sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. Gabe turns from the stockroom shelf, clipboard in hand. 

“Still?” he asks, frowning. Stef hangs her backpack up on one of the hooks by the employee lockers. She pulls her apron over her head and smooths a hand over the closely-shaved hair on one side of her head. 

“Yeah. Fred said he saw him last night at closing, too,” she says. Gabe frowns deeper, looking back at the rows and rows of supplies. 

“That’s the third time this week,” he says. Stef shrugs. 

“You want me to call somebody?”

“No - no,” Gabe says quickly. He hands her the clipboard. “You finish taking inventory. I’ll be right back.”

Gabe grabs a couple of cellophane wrapped packages off the day-old shelf and steps out into the chilly morning. Sure enough, right next to the dumpster, Gabe spots the young man hunched over, trying to wiggle between two overfilled garbage bags. 

“Hey,” Gabe calls out. The man freezes. Gabe takes a couple steps closer. Suddenly, the man springs up, eyes wide. 

“I wasn’t takin’ anything -” he says. Gabe puts up his hands. 

“It’s alright,” Gabe says. He holds out the day old pastries wrapped in cellophane. “Here - take these.”

The young man eyes him suspiciously from under his long, dirty hair. It falls in his eyes - deep brown and mistrustful. He’s holding himself poised to bolt. 

“They’re good,” Gabe says. “Made in house yesterday.” Still, the man hesitates. “I’m not going to bite,” Gabe says, trying to keep his tone light, good-natured. He’s been told by his staff on numerous occasions that he cuts an intimidating figure: he’s tall, broad, muscled from lifting and kneading pounds upon pounds of flour. Once they get to know him, though, they realize he’s just a big old softie, and that the slouchy grey beanie he wears hides a mess of unruly curls that betray his otherwise stern face. 

The man takes a halting step forward. Gabe doesn’t move - he doesn’t want to scare him off. The man edges closer, arm outstretched. His fingers (dirty fingernails, bitten to the quick, Gabe notices) close around the crinkly packaging and then he hops back out of reach again. 

“Thanks,” the man says, uncertain, wary. Gabe gives him a small smile. 

“Any time,” Gabe says, and he means it. The man scoots away again. “There’s a shelter on Third, run by a man named Reinhardt. Tell him I sent you.”

The man scowls, hunching his shoulders in. “I don’t do shelters.”

Gabe shrugs. “If you change your mind, then.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m Gabe, by the way,” Gabe says. “Gabriel Reyes.”

The man considers Gabe for a long moment, eyes piercing. “I’m Jesse.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says with a nod and a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The man doesn’t say anything more; he nods his head and starts edging away, shuffling backwards down the alley. Gabe turns back to the coffee shop, letting the door close between him and Jesse. He doesn’t have a lot of time to worry about the homeless man who’s been rooting through their garbage; the morning rush starts, and Gabe all but forgets the morning’s kindness. 

=-=-=

Blackwatch Brews is a tight-knit crew. Gabe has run the shop for years, since before the neighborhood became one of those “up and coming” areas of the city and young,  _ alternative _ types started moving in. Rents went up and Gabe was forced to sell the shop to the Overwatch Collective just to keep his head above water. Overwatch promised that Gabe would be able to maintain most of his independence for just a small share of the profits. Thus far, they’ve kept their promise and Gabe has been able to run the business as he sees fit. He has a crew of loyal, hardworking employees - Stef, Prithi, Fred, the Newton twins and even Michael - a coterie of regulars, and enough foot traffic to keep the Overwatch corporate goons from breathing down their necks. 

Gabe loves what he does and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Fred and Prithi are taking care of closing up the shop up front while, in the kitchen, Gabe gets started on the pastries for the next day. It’s his favorite part of the day: there’s something soothing about the careful measuring, the repetitive motions of the kneading, the precise shaping of the dough before he tucks them in for proofing. Gabe is up to his elbows in flour when Fred pokes his head into the kitchen. 

“Hey, boss?” Fred says. Gabe looks up. “That guy’s out there again.”

Gabe dusts off his hands. It’s been a few days since Gabe had given the homeless man the leftover pastries and none of the Blackwatch crew has seen him since. Gabe had taken it to mean that the man had moved on. He hoped that he hadn’t scared him off. But if he’s back… 

“Want me to call someone?” Fred asks. Gabe shakes his head. 

“No, it’s alright. I’ll go talk to him,” he says, dusting off his hands and untying his apron. 

“You sure you don’t want back up?” Fred offers. Fred isn’t exactly small, but he - unlike Gabe - does  _ not _ cut an intimidating figure at all. His penchant for oversized, soft sweaters and his ever-present smile give Fred an endlessly warm and friendly aura. 

“No offense, Fred, but I think I can handle myself just fine,” Gabe says with a little smile. Fred laughs. 

“Alright, alright,” Fred says. “Holler if you’re getting murdered, though.”

Gabe shakes his head and steps out the back door of the coffee shop. The streetlamps have already come on, illuminating the back alley in a soft yellow glow. There’s a rustling next to the dumpster. 

“Hey,” Gabe calls out, loud enough to hear over the rummaging, but hopefully without an edge that might be considered threatening. The rustling stops. Slowly, the same man from the other day peeks around the dumpster. “You want to come in?”

The man hesitates. Gabe gestures into the shop. “There’s things to eat, if you want.”

After another moment of hesitation, the man edges towards the back door of the coffee shop. Gabe pushes open the door, standing aside to let him pass. 

“It’s Jesse, right?” Gabe says. The man glances at him then nods. 

“Yeah. And you’re Gabe?”

“That’s right. Come on in.”

Jesse steps inside and Gabe lets the door swing shut behind them. Gabe scoots around Jesse, who’s stopped just inside the door, to go back to his pastry bench. He gestures to a stool. 

“Have a seat. Are you hungry?” Gabe says, moving back to his half-finished dough. Jesse hunches in on himself, not moving to sit down. 

“I can’t pay you,” Jesse says. 

“I didn’t say you’d need to.”

“I don’t like charity.”

Gabe glances back up at Jesse, who’s scowling under that fringe of long, dirty hair. “The extras are just going to go to waste. We can’t donate them so they just get thrown out.”

Still, Jesse frowns. Gabe sighs. 

“If you want to wash some dishes or something,” Gabe says, gesturing to the sink. “It’d save me the time later.”

“Alright,” Jesse says finally. He moves to the sink and starts the water running. Gabe watches him out of the corner of his eye; he’s young, probably no more than his early 20s, but there’s a slump to his shoulders and a look in his eye that indicates he’s seen more than he should have for his years. He’s skinny, too - his worn jeans and dirty button up hang loosely on his body. The pastries would do him some good. He needs a shave and a haircut, too, not to mention a very thorough, very hot bath. 

“Hey Gabe, did you need anything - woah,” Fred stops in his tracks, eyes on Jesse, who hunches in on himself again. Fred gives him a little wave. “Hey.”

Gabe gestures with one floured hand towards Jesse. “Fred, Jesse. Jesse, this is Fred Shiga.”

“Hey,” Fred says, bobbing his head. “Gabe rescue you too?”

Jesse scrunches up his face. Gabe interjects quickly, “He’s washing some dishes. You’re off the hook tonight, Fred.”

Fred gives Gabe a knowing look. “How come you’re always taking in strays?”

“Good  _ night _ Fred.”

“Uh huh. See you tomorrow. Nice meeting you, Jesse!” Fred gives them both a cheery little wave as he slips out the back door. Jesse fiddles with his sleeves, rolling them up better as he frowns. Gabe goes back to kneading. 

“Fred was in a bad spot when he first came to work here,” Gabe says after a moment of awkward silence. “I don’t know if he had ever had a proper job in his life. But - well. A little bit of structure went a long way.”

“I don’t need to be rescued,” Jesse says flatly. Gabe glances up again. 

“Of course not,” Gabe says. Jesse snorts. Gabe puts up a hand. “I mean it. You get to make your own choices. I’m just giving you options.”

There’s another long silence. Gabe goes back to shaping his dough, making careful folds and pinching seams closed. After several moments, he hears the sink turn on and the clink of dishes in the water. Gabe tries not to smile. 

The two of them work in relative silence, only the clatter of dishes breaking the calm. Gabe slides tray after tray of pastries into the racks for proofing, counting and double checking to make sure he has enough for the next day. By the time he’s wiped down the pastry bench, Jesse has turned off the water and has a row of sparkling dishes in the drying rack to show for his efforts. Gabe grabs a bag and fills it to bursting with the promised pastries. He holds it out to Jesse, who’s drying his hands on a towel. 

“Thanks for the help,” Gabe says. Jesse hesitates. He reaches for the bag, haltingly, as if Gabe might change his mind and yank it away at the last moment. Gabe drags the beanie off his head, letting his messy curls spring free for a moment before he tugs it back on, one curl falling over his forehead.

“Thanks,” Jesse echoes. Gabe nods. 

“Any time - really. If you ever need something to eat, well. I’ve always got dishes to clean,” Gabe says, earnest and serious. Jesse’s fingers clench around the bag, crinkling the paper. There’s a muscle working in his jaw and it seems as if he doesn’t really know where to look - he certainly is having a hard time meeting Gabe’s eyes. 

“Alright,” Jesse says. He shuffles on the spot. “Thanks.”

“Take care of yourself, Jesse.”

Jesse nods. He edges back out of the door and into the alley behind the coffee shop. When Gabe locks up a few minutes later, there’s no sign of him. He thinks back, briefly, to when Fred joined the Blackwatch crew. Even if Jesse doesn’t turn out like Fred, Gabe hopes that he’ll be okay. 

=-=-=

Over the next couple of weeks, Jesse returns periodically - a couple nights a week, he shows up at the back door, just as bedraggled and ragged, still skinny, still dirty, but willing to wash dishes in exchange for a bag of pastries. They work in a mostly comfortable silence; Gabe shaping the next day’s pastries while Jesse methodically washes every dish piled in the sink. He takes the bag with a whispered thank you and then disappears into the night. 

One night, Gabe holds out another bag along with the usual bag of pastries. Jesse eyes it suspiciously. 

“I thought you might need a change of clothes,” Gabe says, casually, with a shrug. “I guessed your size.”

Jesse frowns. “I don’t do charity,” he says automatically. Gabe gestures to the rack of drying dishes. 

“You earned it.”

Still, Jesse hesitates. At this point, Gabe is used to it. He sets the bag of clothes down and holds out the pastry bag instead. Jesse takes it and starts heading for the door. 

“You know, I could use a full time dishwasher,” Gabe says before Jesse’s fingers close around the doorknob. It’s only partially true - he can’t really afford it, but he could make it work. Maybe the folks at corporate would help cover the gaps. Jesse stops and turns back to Gabe, eyeing him warily. 

“I don’t have ID or anything,” Jesse says. Gabe shrugs. 

“Then we can make a different arrangement,” he says. That makes Jesse go stiff, his eyes going hard, his jaw setting into something grim. 

“No thanks,” Jesse says. He yanks open the door and steps into the alley. Gabe glances at the abandoned bag of clothes, wondering what he said wrong. 

=-=-=

Jesse doesn’t show up again. Gabe feels bad - very bad - wondering what it was he said or did that triggered something in Jesse that scared him off. He hopes that he’s okay. He stops by the shelter on Third, but Reinhardt assures him, in his jovial booming voice, that he hasn’t seen anyone matching Jesse’s description, but that he’d keep an eye out, just in case. 

Fred complains about having to do the dishes again. 

The routine at Blackwatch Brews goes back to normal: Gabe stays late and opens up early, Wake Newton always shows up late in spite of Tack’s best efforts, Fred antagonizes Michael, Prithi’s hair cycles through a rainbow of colors, and Stef pretends not to notice Michael’s advances. Gabe almost forgets about the homeless man with the long hair and dark eyes. There’s other more pressing matters that demand his attention - payroll, the looming tax season, various demands from Overwatch’s corporate headquarters. It’s only in those quiet moments that Gabe has to himself, few and far between, that Gabe’s thoughts turn back to Jesse, and his hope that he’s taking care of himself, out there, somewhere. 

“You’re looking tired, Gabriel,” one of the regulars comments to Gabe as he hands her a hot tea over the counter. Ana Amari, a neighborhood staple with a darling daughter who Gabe has practically watched grow up, is an intimidatingly kind woman, with waist-length dark hair and kind but sharp eyes, and a persistent need to get into everyone’s business. 

“Good thing I work in a coffee shop then,” Gabe replies good-naturedly. Ana tuts at him. She waves her cup of tea. 

“Tea is better for you,” she says. 

“Why do you come to a coffee shop for tea, then?” 

Ana makes a face at him, but she’s smiling. “You know you have the best tea in the neighborhood, Gabriel.”

“You know I only have good tea because I let you pick it,” he points out. 

“And that is why I will keep coming back here.” 

“I thought you came for my good looks,” Gabe says, sticking his lower lip out. Ana laughs. 

“That’s just a bonus,” she says. Gabe chuckles. “You really ought to get some more help here, though, Gabriel. Give yourself a rest.”

“Maybe I’ll try going to bed early one of these nights,” he says. Ana purses her lips, unconvinced. 

“And stop drinking coffee in the afternoons,” she says. “Try some of my tea, Gabriel. You’ll like it, and you’ll sleep better.”

“I’ll try,” Gabe promises. Ana gives him that severe, almost motherly look she’s infamous for - but the smile on her lips reminds Gabe that her words come from a genuinely caring place. 

Another day, Gabe is hunched over his tiny, overcrowded desk jammed into a corner of the storage room, going over and over the month’s numbers, worrying if it will be  _ enough _ to satisfy corporate, or that he’ll have enough to cover overhead, rent, and payroll, or if he’s going to have to cut someone’s hours, or…

A commotion up front interrupts Gabe’s train of thought. He picks up his head. Michael’s voice floats back to him, loud, agitated - but Gabe can’t make out the words. He gets up, abandoning his calculations to poke his head into the front of the store. 

“ _ Sir _ ,” Michael is saying, pointedly and less-than-politely. “The bathroom is for customers only. If you want to use it, you’ll need to buy something.”

“I don’t - I ain’t tryin’ to use the bathroom, I’m looking for Gabe,” the man at the register says, voice raised. He’s gripping the counter with both hands, his knuckles white - or at least they would be, under the grime, scrapes and bruises. It takes Gabe a moment to realize that the scraggly man is Jesse. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to -” Michael says, but Gabe takes a couple of steps forward and cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jesse?” Gabe asks. The man picks up his head and looks at Gabe. His eyes are sunken, hollow, a deep purple bruise ringing one eye, dried blood under his nose, his lip split. Gabe has never really seen him in the light of day but it's Jesse, alright, and much worse for wear. Something clenches around Gabe’s heart. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Jesse says, voice dropping low and quiet. 

“He was trying to get into the bathroom,” Michael says with a huff, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. Gabe brushes him off. 

“Come on back, Jesse,” Gabe says, extending one arm towards Jesse and gesturing with the other towards the back room. 

“But -” Michael starts to say. Gabe levels an unamused look at him, which makes Michael shut his mouth with a snap. He looks back at Jesse. 

“Come on,” Gabe says again. Jesse lets go of the counter and follows Gabe back into the stockroom, unsteady on his feet. The door swings closed behind them. 

“Sorry,” Jesse says, shuffling on the spot. “Didn’t mean to make a scene.”

“Are you alright?” Gabe asks. He’s keeping space between them, but he wants to take a closer look at that bruise around his eye. Jesse’s nose looks like it might be broken too. Still, he keeps his distance. 

“I just - I needed to get out,” Jesse says. 

“From where?”

“I don’t - I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Gabe nods. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

Jesse eyes him warily but Gabe presses on. “My place is really close - just upstairs, actually,” he says, trying not to let the embarrassment show through. He’s blurred the lines between work and leisure time for a long time, without much reason (read: a personal life) to separate the two. It’s convenient, at least, and Gabe never runs out of coffee. “You don’t have to stay, but a shower and a change of clothes might do you some good.”

Jesse’s fingers twitch at his sides, his hands curling into fists. “What’s that gonna cost me?” he asks. 

“Nothing at all,” Gabe says, shaking his head. Jesse takes a step back. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t do charity,” he says. Gabe exhales in a slightly frustrated little  _ whoosh _ .

“It’s not charity,” he says. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Jesse studies Gabe’s face for a long moment, brow furrowed, expression almost entirely unreadable. He doesn’t trust him, to be sure, but there’s something more to his distrust than Gabe can glean from Jesse’s few words. 

“Alright,” Jesse says, finally. Gabe nods but doesn’t smile - he finds that he really doesn’t want to scare him off by being overly friendly or familiar. 

“Alright. Let me just tell my staff,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Jesse nods, apparently rooted to the spot. Gabe slips back out front. Michael is still huffing behind the register, particularly affronted by his encounter with Jesse, and now being lightly berated by Ana Amari. 

“Would you raise your voice to a woman like that?” she demands. Michael makes a face. 

“Of course not,” he says. Ana shakes a finger at him. 

“Why is it okay to say to a person in need, then?”

“He’s some homeless -” 

Gabe clears his throat. “I’m going to grab some lunch with Jesse.” 

“You aren’t actually going to -” Michael starts to say but Gabe cuts him off with a look. Michael frowns. 

“And then I have some errands to run,” Gabe says. He leans around Michael to speak to Stef, who’s manning the espresso machine. “Stef, I’ll be back to close up, alright?”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says with a mock salute. Gabe looks back at Michael. 

“Try not to yell at any more potential customers?” he says. Michael huffs again, but Gabe is already done. 

“There’s a gentleman if I ever saw one,” Ana is saying as Gabe makes his way back to the stock room. “You’d do well to learn from him, Michael.”

In the stockroom, Jesse hasn’t moved an inch. Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Let’s go.”

Gabe leads Jesse out the back door of the coffee shop and into the alley. The coffee shop is at the end of a row of mixed-use buildings; Gabe’s apartment is directly above it. He goes up the stairs first, fishing in his pocket for his keys. 

The apartment isn’t anything special. Gabe got a deal on it when he first rented out the space for Blackwatch Brews, and he’s been such a good tenant - even through the transformation of the neighborhood - that he’s been able to keep the rent down on the apartment for some time. It’s not big - it’s essentially two rooms: a living space and a bedroom, separated by a set of double doors that Gabe has no reason to close. He’s kept it sparsely furnished and sparsely decorated, everything entirely utilitarian and practical. Since he spends most of his day at the coffee shop and mostly only comes home to sleep and shower, Gabe sees no point in spending money on needless knick knacks. He does, however, have lots of pictures of his sisters and their families scattered throughout the apartment; on his fridge, there’s a crayon scribble from his youngest niece. His counters are crowded with baking ingredients and different samples of coffee from around the world - even when he’s not working, Gabe is thinking about the next big thing. 

Gabe flips on the lights and drops his keys in a dish on a table next to the front door before he moves into the room. Jesse hesitates in the doorway. 

“I think I have something in your size,” Gabe says over his shoulder, moving towards his bedroom. “But I can run a load of laundry if you’d like.”

Gabe rifles through his closet for a few moments before he comes up with the bag of clothes he had previously offered Jesse. He pulls a Henley and a pair of worn-in jeans out of the bag and goes back to the living room. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Gabe asks. Jesse’s eyes, wandering around the space, snap back to Gabe, wary. 

“Um.”

“It’s past my lunchtime - I was going to make some grilled cheese or something, too,” Gabe says. “Maybe while you’re showering?”

Jesse reaches out and takes the bundle of clothes from Gabe, hugging it close to his chest. “Okay.”

Gabe offers him a small, kind smile. “It’s just through those doors. Take whatever you need. There’s a razor there, too, if you want.”

Jesse looks entirely overwhelmed, so Gabe moves away and into the little kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out cheese and butter, keeping an ear cocked in Jesse’s direction. It takes a few moments, but he hears unsteady footsteps advance in the direction of the bedroom. The bathroom door’s hinges squeak as the door slides closed. Gabe hears the lock click into place. Once he hears the water turn on, Gabe begins making sandwiches in earnest. 

The water is still running when Gabe takes the second sandwich off the griddle. He pours himself a glass of water and sips it slowly, leaning against the counter as he considers Jesse’s situation. What could Jesse be running from? Who hurt him? Why? Many questions, but so few answers. His mind comes up with dozens of possibilities. He decides, ultimately, it’s not his business. He just wants to help Jesse, make sure he’s safe, get him back on his feet. 

Gabe ends up eating his grilled cheese while the water still runs. He covers Jesse’s with a plate to keep it warm. He finishes his sandwich and cleans up his mess, taking the rare opportunity to tidy his kitchen as well. Gabe is just pouring himself another glass of water when the shower shuts off and, a moment or two later, the bathroom door opens. Jesse shuffles into the kitchen, dressed in the clean clothes Gabe had put aside for him, holding his soiled clothes in his arms. Gabe has to do a double take; the man that stands before him looks almost entirely different than the man who had been rummaging through his garbage weeks before. 

Jesse cleans up well. Very well, actually. His damp hair is slicked away from his face, revealing strong, handsome features, though it also has the effect of making the bruises and cuts stand out more prominently. He holds himself self-consciously, the clothes too big for him, hanging loosely on his frame. He's rolled up his sleeves, revealing a tattoo on his left forearm and a slew of old scars that Gabe can't help but wonder about. Removing the layer of grime was like taking away Jesse’s shield, and now he looks exposed. He hunches in on himself again. 

Gabe gestures to the counter and the covered plate. “I made grilled cheese for you too.”

“Thanks,” Jesse says. He hesitates then holds up his dirty bundle of clothes. “You said there was laundry?”

“Sure,” Gabe says. He holds out his arms. “I’ll start a load. You eat.”

Jesse perches on the edge of the barstool while Gabe moves around him to the closet where his washer is. He tries not to look too closely at the bundle of clothes in his hands, but he’s curious. The crusty brown spots on his shirt probably aren’t just dirt. He tosses in Jesse’s clothes onto the waiting pile of his own, dumps the detergent in, and sets the heat to high. He might have to run it twice. 

Gabe moves back into the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks, nodding at the plate. He blinks; the sandwich has been reduced to crumbs, which Jesse is picking up with his fingers. Jesse freezes with his fingers in his mouth, caught in the act. 

“It was,” he says, wiping his fingers on his thighs. “Thanks.”

“You want another?” Gabe asks. He can’t help but note the flash of hunger in Jesse’s eyes. He wonders when Jesse last had a proper meal - he hasn’t been coming around for pastries for a long time. Jesse shifts on the barstool. 

“I -”

“It’s no trouble,” Gabe says, already opening the fridge and retrieving the butter and cheese again. Jesse watches him, eyes following Gabe back to the stove. He doesn’t say anything as Gabe slices more cheese and butters more bread. 

“How come you’re so nice to me?” Jesse blurts out as Gabe plops the sandwich in the pan. It starts to sizzle. Gabe looks over at Jesse, spatula in hand. 

“I’m a big believer in second chances,” Gabe says, voice gentle but serious. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if somebody hadn’t given me the choice to start again. Everyone deserves a do-over.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a long time, and, this time, Gabe doesn’t press. He focuses on flipping the sandwich until it’s golden brown all around, the cheese melty and gooey in the middle. He slices it in half diagonally and sprinkles a pinch of flakey salt over the top for good measure. 

“What’s that?” Jesse asks, suspicious. 

“Finishing salt,” Gabe says, showing him the green and white box. “It’s just for an extra bit of flavor.”

Jesse blinks at him blandly, but the hunger overtakes suspicion and soon he’s scarfing down the second sandwich. Gabe passes him a glass of water and a napkin before he busies himself cleaning up the kitchen so he doesn’t stare at Jesse while he eats. The laundry beeps so Gabe moves back around the kitchen counter to move the clothes into the dryer. 

“Do you have a place to stay?” Gabe asks, his back still turned to Jesse as he moves the clothes. The blood that had crusted over on Jesse’s shirt is faded, but not entirely gone. He hears Jesse shift on the barstool. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not a yes,” Gabe says mildly. He grabs a couple of dryer sheets - lavender scented - and tosses those in with Jesse’s clothes. He turns back to Jesse, who’s hunched over the empty plate with both of his hands in his lap. 

“I don’t…” Jesse starts to say, then trails off. He clears his throat and raises his head to look at Gabe. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well you’re here now,” Gabe says, coming back to the kitchen counter. He leans against it with both hands. “So we’ll figure it out.”

Jesse is still looking at him with doubt, a clear wariness in his eyes. Gabe doesn’t move, making himself appear as non-threatening as possible. He wants Jesse to trust him and he doesn’t want to spook him. After a long, long moment, Jesse lets his breath out. 

“Okay.”

=-=-=

It takes some doing. Jesse is skittish, slow to trust, and wary of every little thing no matter how well-intentioned Gabe tries to make it seem. Gabe does manage to convince him to stay at the shelter on Third - it only works after Gabe makes an introduction to Reinhardt. The enormous man’s booming voice was initially off-putting, but the warmth he exudes is genuine. Reinhardt gives them a tour of the facility - it’s clean and relatively quiet, with a liberal set of rules. Jesse agrees to stay when he learns he’s under no obligation to stay or attend any sorts of therapy. Gabe tells Jesse to come to the coffee shop before he opens the next morning and he’ll put him to work. He returns to Blackwatch Brews just in time to help with closing. 

“Boss? That you?” Stef’s voice calls out as Gabe lets himself in through the back door. 

“Yeah. Is Fred here?”

“I’m here!”

Gabe moves to the front of the shop. “You’ll be pleased to hear that you’ll have help with the dishes again starting tomorrow. I hope.”

Fred perks up as he swings a chair onto a table. “Really?”

“Jesse came back. I told him there’s a job here in the morning if he wants it,” Gabe says with a nod. Stef barely glances up from wiping down the counters. 

“I heard Michael nearly threw him out with his excellent customer service,” Stef says. Her tone softens a little; in many ways, she takes after Gabe with her deceptively hard exterior. “Is Jesse okay? He looked kind of… worse for wear.”

“He had a shower, something to eat. He’s staying at Rein’s place on Third,” Gabe says. 

“What, you’re not letting him crash on your own sofa?” Fred teases. Stef rolls her eyes. 

“I’d hope that Gabe knows better than  _ that _ ,” she says. “He’s already made that mistake once.” Gabe makes a face at both of them. 

“You know how it is, Fred,” he says, gently chiding. “He needs his space, and sleeping on my sofa would be… a lot. If he wants to leave the shelter, he can. I don’t want him to feel trapped.”

“You’re too good to us, Gabe,” Fred says, shaking his head. 

Stef and Fred finish closing up the shop and take off for the night, leaving Gabe to his pastries in the kitchen. Gabe loses himself in the soothing, repetitive measuring, mixing, and kneading of the dough for the next day’s pastries. His mind drifts to Jesse sitting at his kitchen counter, picking up crumbs with the tips of his fingers and licking them clean. Jesse, freshly clean and ravenous, hunched in on himself on the barstool, watching Gabe with wide, sunken eyes. 

Those eyes follow him out of the shop and back to his little apartment. Gabe lies awake, remembering the wary look on Jesse’s face. He hopes that Jesse comes back in the morning. 

=-=-=

It’s still dark outside when Gabe goes down to the coffee shop. He’s surprised - but pleased - to find Jesse standing by the back door, in the clothes that Gabe had given him the night before, hugging his arms close to his chest to ward off the morning’s chill. 

“Morning,” Gabe says with a small smile and a nod. “Come on in.”

Gabe unlocks the door and steps in, holding the door so Jesse can follow. He comes in after a moment and hovers in the doorway. Gabe moves past him, letting the door click shut behind them. 

“You want some coffee?” Gabe asks. “I usually make a pot while I get the ovens going.”

Jesse blinks. “Sure.”

Gabe gestures to the front of the shop with a jerk of his head as he goes turn on the ovens. Jesse doesn’t move immediately, watching him fiddle with the dials on the ovens. He follows Gabe into the front. 

“What kind of coffee do you like?” Gabe asks, digging around under the counter. “Colombian?  Guatemalan? Maybe an Ethiopian or Kenyan?” He peeks back up over the edge of counter at Jesse who blinks back at him, shuffling on the spot. 

“Uh, I usually just - cream and sugar. If I can get it.”

Gabe tries not to grimace. “Let’s try the Guatemalan,” he says. “It’s smooth - you might not even need cream and sugar.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Gabe sets the coffee to brew. Soon enough, the coffee shop fills with the aromatic scent of freshly brewing coffee. Gabe closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep inhale. He lets his breath out slowly, savoring it. 

Finally, he turns back to Jesse, who’s looking at him a little funny. Gabe smiles sheepishly. “Coffee addict, what can I say? Come on. I’ll show you how to open up shop.”

Jesse trails Gabe around the store, not speaking, watching and listening to everything Gabe says. He starts taking down chairs while Gabe goes back into the kitchen to put the first batch of pastries into the oven. While he’s back there, he grabs a spare apron from the rack and brings it out front. 

“Jesse,” Gabe says. Jesse looks up. Gabe holds up the rolled up apron then tosses to to him. Jesse catches it and unrolls it. He blinks at the Blackwatch Brews logo on the front then turns his gaze back up to Gabe. 

“What’s this?”

“Part of the uniform,” Gabe says. 

“I don’t work here,” Jesse says, even though his voice is uncertain. Gabe gives him a small smile. 

“Would you like to?”

“I don’t have ID, remember?”

Gabe shrugs. “I’ll work something out.”

Jesse looks back down at the apron in his hands. Gabe doesn’t hold his breath, but it’s a near thing. Finally, Jesse loops the apron over his head and ties it behind his back. It’s a small thing, sure, but it feels like a big step in the right direction. Gabe gestures in the direction of the tables. 

“You sit. I’ll get us some pastries.”

Gabe comes back with two steaming pain au chocolats. Jesse is sitting awkwardly at one of the little tables at the end of the counter, hands in his lap. Gabe slides the plates onto the table and goes for some coffee. He pours himself and Jesse each a cup, and even - albeit begrudgingly - fills a creamer with half and half and grabs a sugar caddy. He brings them back to the table and sits across from Jesse. 

“At least try the coffee without milk and sugar first,” Gabe insists, sliding the cup to him. Jesse hesitates but brings the cup to his lips and takes a small sip. Gabe raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“It’s good,” Jesse says, unconvincingly. Gabe lets out a little laugh. He nudges the cream and sugar closer to him. 

“Add in the cream and sugar if you must,” Gabe says. “I forget that not everyone’s a coffee snob like me.”

“It’s good, though, really,” Jesse says, taking two, three packets of sugar and dumping them into his cup. He adds a healthy glug of half and half and stirs it thoroughly. Gabe, for what it’s worth, manages not to wince at the desecration. He tears off a piece of flaky pastry. It practically melts on his tongue, buttery and warm and chocolatey all at once. Jesse isn’t as slow about it - he demolishes the pastry in a couple bites.

“You made these?” Jesse asks. He’s got a bit of chocolate smeared at the corner of his lip. Gabe nods. “They’re really good.”

“Thanks,” Gabe says. He gestures at his lip, hoping Jesse gets the hint. The tip of Jesse’s tongue darts out and licks it away. “I could teach you.”

“Teach me?”

“Sure,” Gabe says. There’s still a bit of chocolate on Jesse’s lip. “If you’d like.”

Jesse thinks about it for awhile. “I dunno if I could make anything like this.”

“You just need to practice.”

Jesse doesn’t look convinced but he returns Gabe’s smile with a tiny, unsure one of his own. Gabe considers it a victory. Another step in the right direction. 

They’re just finishing their coffee when Prithi and Tack Newton let themselves in through the back door. Tack stops in the doorway from the stockroom to the front of the shop, blocking the way for Prithi, who peeks around him. 

“Who’s that?” Tack asks bluntly. Prithi nudges him. 

“You sound like your sister.”

“Sorry,” Tack blinks. “It’s early.”

Gabe lifts his mug to the two of them. “Prithi, Tack, this is Jesse. He’s going to be helping out around the shop for a while,” he says. Prithi bobs her head, her bright teal hair catching the morning light. 

“Cool. Welcome. Is there coffee?” she asks, scooting around Tack. 

“There’s always coffee, it’s a coffee shop,” Tack says, finally moving out of the way. He gives Jesse a small smile - practically a grin, coming from Tack - and follows Prithi to the pot. Gabe stands, dusting off his hands while his employees help themselves to the coffee. 

“Alright. You two finish opening up. Jesse, come on back.”

Gabe and Jesse unload the ovens, Jesse taking the trays of pastries up front to be put into the display case while Gabe reloads the oven. The rest of the day passes in a blur of routine. Jesse falls into step alongside the rest of the Blackwatch crew as if he’s worked with them for years. He seems to anticipate needs before he’s asked, picking up new tasks almost immediately. It’s a pleasure to see, though Gabe tries not to let Jesse notice him watching. Gabe is pleased, though it’s only really the first day. He has hope for the future - for Jesse’s future. 

In the afternoon, Ana comes in for her usual cup of tea. Jesse, carrying a bin of dirty cups and saucers to the kitchen, side steps her before he trips over her. 

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Jesse says, pausing to let her pass. Ana stops and looks Jesse up and down. Her eyes linger on his apron. 

“You’re new,” she says. “And so polite!”

Jesse blinks, a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look coming into his face. Gabe leans across the counter quickly. 

“The usual, Ana?” he asks. Ana looks from Jesse to Gabe. 

“You finally hired new help!” she says, coming over to the counter. Jesse hurries into the kitchen. 

“He’s new,” Gabe nods. He lowers his voice. “He’s getting back on his feet.”

Ana reaches out and rests her hand over Gabe’s on the counter. “You’re a good man, Gabriel,” she pats his hand and draws away to fish her wallet out of her purse. “It’s about time you got the help, too. Maybe you can finally fire that Michael who’s always yelling at your customers.”

Gabe does his best not to smile. “Then I’d need to hire more people,” he points out. Ana waves her hand and hands him her credit card. 

“You would make do,” she says. She leans in, conspiratorially. “And this new boy - he’s  _ handsome _ .”

Gabe laughs good-naturedly. He hands Ana back her credit card and her tea, and pretends that he doesn’t agree with Ana’s appraisal of Jesse. 

That night, Gabe can hear Fred chattering away to Jesse as they wrap up their closing duties. He listens, a smile on his lips - if anyone can crack Jesse, it’s Fred Shiga. 

“... Gabe is actually a giant nerd. You know where ‘Blackwatch’ came from?” Fred asks, but hardly waits for Jesse to respond. “It’s from a video game - Mass Effect. You know it? It’s basically an alien dating simulator.”

Gabe feels his face go hot. He scrambles out of the kitchen. 

“Fred,” he says, voice going a little high. “All done out here?”

Fred looks up, leaning against the counter while Jesse is on his hands and knees, head under the sink. 

“Hey boss,” Fred says. “Jesse’s figured out what’s causing the drain to back up. Someone dumped a filter or seven down there. Between you and me? I bet it was Michael.”

Jesse peeks out from under the sink. “It should work just fine now.”

“He’s pretty handy,” Fred says. “Good with his hands.”

Jesse scrunches up his face. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“It already feels like you’ve been here for years, Jesse,” Fred says warmly. He grins. “You’re part of the Blackwatch crew now.”

A look passes over Jesse’s face. He tips his face up towards Gabe, as if seeking approval or affirmation. Gabe gives him a smile that Jesse returns, the pinch in his brow clearing. A warm feeling wells up in Gabe’s chest. 

“I’m glad to hear,” Gabe says sincerely. “If you’re all set here, I’ve got something for you, Jesse.”

“I’m off, then,” Fred says. He slings his apron over his shoulder and sees himself out. His voice echoes back to the front. “Good night!”

Jesse picks himself up off of the floor, brushing off his hands and knees. Gabe reaches into the pocket of his apron and pulls out an envelope with Jesse’s name scrawled on the front. Inside, Gabe’s tucked in enough cash for the day’s work - on the generous side, since Gabe has always been a big believer in a living wage, rather than a mere minimum. Jesse eyes the envelope. 

“What’s this?”

“You earned it,” Gabe says. Jesse takes the envelope and peeks inside. His eyes widen. 

“I can’t take this -”

“Yes you can.”

“It’s too much.”

“You worked hard,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “It’s just right.”

“Well - thanks,” Jesse says awkwardly. His clutches the envelope closer. Gabe gives him another little smile. 

“I ought to be thanking you, really,” Gabe says. “We’ve been meaning to fix that sink for ages.”

Jesse shuffles on the spot. “It was nothing.”

“Well, you’re welcome to keep doing nothing, if that’s the result,” Gabe says. Jesse cracks a wider, almost shy smile. That warm feeling in Gabe’s chest returns. “You’re welcome to come back tomorrow too - as long as you want it, you have a place here, Jesse.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Jesse looks at Gabe, really looks at him, his dark eyes piercing, thoughtful. Gabe finds himself holding still, as if moving might disrupt Jesse’s train of thought. Finally, Jesse nods slowly. 

“Alright,” Jesse says. 

“There’s just a couple of rules - no drugs, no alcohol. So long as you don’t bring your messes to work, we’ll always be there for you,” Gabe says, going a little more serious. Jesse blinks then nods. 

“I can do that,” Jesse says. 

“Good. I have to get started on the pastries for tomorrow,” Gabe says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll see you then.”

“Oh,” Jesse says, then pauses, going shy again. It does something to his features - softens the hard edges, even makes some of the healing bruises on his face looks lighter for the slight flush that rises into his cheeks. “I thought - you said you could show me how to make those pastries?”

Gabe blinks, then smiles wide. “Of course. Come on back.”

While Gabe usually treasures his alone time, surrounded by flour and quiet, having Jesse in the kitchen with him is actually quite pleasant. He rolls up his sleeves to the elbows and starts pulling down supplies. Jesse drags a barstool up to the pastry bench, watching with sharp eyes as Gabe measures and mixes, kneads and shapes. He interrupts to ask questions every so often, but remains mostly quiet, watchful, unobtrusive. Gabe finds himself narrating each step out loud, filling the pauses between steps with stories from when he was in pastry school and learning and making mistakes. At the end of the night, Jesse helps Gabe wrap and rack the trays for proofing and helps with the dishes too. 

“How come you have a coffee shop then, instead of a bakery?” Jesse asks over the sound of dishes clattering in the sink. Gabe pauses, up to the elbows in dishwater, thinking about his past failures, the heartache and loss. He shakes his head a little, as if to clear it. 

“It didn't work out,” he says finally, after too long of a pause. He can feel Jesse’s eyes on him but he doesn't meet his look. Some things are better left unsaid. 

=-=-=

They slip into an easy routine. Jesse shows up before opening, helping Gabe get the pastries in the oven and the first batch of coffee going. He cleans and tinkers and organizes, finding ways to spend his time and help out - without ever getting under foot. Everyone likes him, even Stef, whose usual surly demeanor doesn't deter Jesse from making nice with her. She's the one who ends up training him on the espresso machine, even though he still takes his coffee with cream and too much sugar. The regulars love his drawl, his charm, his thoughtfulness. His bruises heal and he starts tying his hair away from his face instead of hiding behind the long fringe of his hair. He joins Gabe for lunch most days, upstairs in Gabe’s apartment. He even starts to remind Gabe to take breaks and take care of himself before he drops, which Gabe was always terrible at doing on his own. Every night, Jesse stays late while Gabe makes the next day’s pastries. At first, he watches, and slowly he becomes emboldened enough to offer to help, and soon enough, they're working side by side, measuring and mixing, kneading and shaping. 

The only bad part is that, once Jesse starts helping out at the pastry bench, the task goes twice as fast. 

Gabe goes home alone, with more time between work and bed and work again than he knows what to do with. He finds his thoughts drifting to Jesse, who's begun to open up more and more as time goes on. Jesse has relaxed; less wary, less on edge. He's put on weight. He smiles more - a big, beautiful smile that caught Gabe so off guard the first time he saw it he swears he forgot to breathe. Sometimes Jesse even laughs. It's usually Fred’s fault - he's always joking, teasing - it's hard not to laugh when Fred’s around. When Jesse’s laugh floats back into the kitchen or storage room where Gabe is usually spending most of his days trying to keep the business running smoothly, Gabe can't help but smile. 

Gabe pretends he's just glad that Jesse has found a safe space in which to blossom, nothing more than that. 

“Jesse has made a good home here, hasn't he?” Ana asks as she pays for her usual cup of afternoon tea. As if on cue, Jesse laughs at something Wake says. Ana smiles, and Gabe finds himself smiling too. 

“He has,” Gabe nods. He passes her the usual cup of piping hot tea. 

“You've done a good thing, Gabriel,” Ana says, patting his hand as she accepts the cup from him.

“I do what I can.”

One night, a couple of months after Jesse started working at Blackwatch Brews, Gabe is sprawled out on his sofa playing the newest Mass Effect game when there's a knock at the door. Gabe startles, caught in the act, having just been flirting in game with a man with a sinful accent who happens to share his name. He scrambles up from the sofa, pausing the game and hoping his embarrassment doesn't read on his face when he opens the door. He's surprised to find Jesse standing there, bleeding from his nose. 

“Jesse,” Gabe says, taken aback. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Jesse says thickly. He lifts a hand to rub some of the blood off his face and winces. Gabe reaches out instinctively. 

“Hey - come in, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Gabe stands aside so Jesse can step inside. He peeks out of the door after him, but the alley and parking lot behind the building is empty as far as he can see. Gabe closes the door behind them. Jesse stands in the doorway of Gabe’s apartment, unsure or unwilling to step in further. 

“What happened?” Gabe asks, already going to the freezer for a bag of peas or something else to ice Jesse’s face. He comes up with a bag of frozen blueberries - it’ll do. “Come here, sit.” Gabe wraps the blueberries in a dish towel and holds it out to Jesse as he finally come over and perches on the edge of the barstool. 

“It’s - I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Jesse says, reminiscent of how he had behaved when he first showed up behind Blackwatch Brews. He holds the frozen blueberries up to the side of his face - Gabe gets a glimpse of a rapidly forming bruise marring Jesse’s temple. Gabe purses his lips. 

“Let me get a washcloth,” Gabe says. He slips back into the bathroom. When he comes back, Jesse is touching his nose experimentally. “Don’t - is it broken?”

“Not more than usual,” Jesse says, dropping his hand back into his lap. 

“Can I?” Gabe asks, holding up the washcloth. There’s a flash of hesitation in Jesse’s eyes, but he nods. Gabe steps in close, taking Jesse’s chin gently in his hand and tipping his head back. Jesse sets the bag of frozen blueberries on the counter and sits perfectly still as Gabe inspects his nose. It’s not broken - Gabe says as much out loud. “You’re going to have some nasty bruises, though.”

“Nothing I ain’t had before,” Jesse says with a sigh. He lets Gabe wipe the blood away, wincing only a little under Gabe’s light touches. 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Gabe says gently. Jesse raises his eyes to meet Gabe’s. It makes Gabe’s hand stall, fingers resting lightly along Jesse’s cheek bone. Gabe swallows thickly. “Where did this happen?”

“The shelter,” Jesse says. Gabe frowns. 

“Reinhardt’s?”

“They’re all the same, when it comes down to it,” Jesse says. He finally averts his eyes. Gabe sets the washcloth down on the counter. “I don’t like shelters.”

“Stay here tonight, then,” Gabe says, deciding something on a whim. Jesse looks up again, sharply, suspiciously. 

“What?”

“We’ll figure something better tomorrow,” Gabe adds quickly. “I know my couch isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“You’ve already done… I don’t want to impose,” Jesse says. Gabe shakes his head. 

“Not an imposition, really. You want to shower? I’ve got some sweats you can borrow, too,” Gabe says. It's a testament to the trust they've built up over the last few months that Jesse doesn't refuse immediately. His shoulders sag a little, some of the tension going out of his body. 

“Alright.”

Jesse moves away to the bathroom, already familiar with the route after weeks of eating lunch almost every day with Gabe. Once Gabe hears the door close and lock, he goes to the bedroom to find a pair of sweats that aren’t too worn thin. He lays them out on his bed and knocks on the bathroom door. 

“There’s some sweats on the bed for you, Jesse.”

A pause. Then - “Thanks.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m alright.”

“Okay. Take your time.”

Gabe dithers around his kitchen, cleaning up forgotten dishes and tidying up, just for something to do while Jesse showers. He remembers the video game and goes to shut it off before Jesse notices anything remotely compromising. Jesse reemerges from the bathroom as Gabe is making up the sofa with sheets and spare blankets. He stands in the doorway to the bedroom in Gabe’s slightly too-big sweats, his hair dripping wet spots into the hood of the sweatshirt. Gabe looks up. 

“Better?”

Jesse nods, letting his breath out so his shoulders slump again. “Yeah. Thanks for this.”

Gabe waves a hand. “You don't need to keep thanking me.”

“Somehow you're always coming to my rescue,” Jesse says. He's looking at Gabe with those dark eyes again, almost wonderingly. It catches Gabe off-guard; it's a look that makes the breath catch in his throat and his heart flutter in his chest. 

“It's just… the right thing to do,” Gabe says, somewhat weakly after too-long of a pause. “We ought to get some sleep. It's late.”

“Sorry for keeping you up,” Jesse says. Gabe shakes his head dismissively. 

“I was still up,” he says. He gestures to the sofa. “Let me know if you need more blankets or pillows or anything.”

“It's already more than I'm used to having,” Jesse says, crossing the living room. Gabe scoots around him and out of the way. 

“Sleep well then,” Gabe says. Jesse sits on the edge of the sofa. 

“You too, Gabe.”

Gabe slips into his bedroom, but he leaves the double doors open. He changes in the steamy bathroom - Jesse must like very hot showers - and comes back out to find Jesse has turned off the lights in the living room. He can't quite make out the details, but Gabe thinks he can see the lump on the sofa, all the blankets piled on top of him, his face turned into the hood bunched up under his cheek. Quietly, Gabe slips into his own bed and turns off his light. He lies awake on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, imagining he can hear Jesse’s long, even breaths as he falls asleep. 

=-=-=

The next afternoon, while Jesse is unloading a delivery in the stockroom, Gabe pulls Fred aside to ask about housing options. 

“Moving out, Gabe?” Fred asks cheerfully. 

“It's for Jesse,” Gabe says, keeping his voice low and shaking his head. Fred lights up. 

“Yeah? I could use a new roommate.”

“Fred -” Gabe starts to say, worried that Fred’s enthusiasm might be offputting to Jesse. He knows Jesse can take care of himself, but the urge to protect him hasn't quite faded away. Fred waves a hand dismissively. 

“Don't worry, boss,” Fred says. “Me and Jesse have been getting along swimmingly. I won't say that you said anything.” 

Later, Gabe spies Fred chatting animatedly with Jesse as they clean the espresso counter for the night. 

“But like - no pressure, alright? You come and see the place and decide for yourself,” Fred says, earnestly, as natural as if it had been his own idea. Gabe turns back to the kitchen, smiling. 

“Alright,” he hears Jesse say. He wonders if he's imagining the relieved note in Jesse’s voice. 

=-=-=

Jesse moves in with Fred and it does wonders. The newfound sense of security does Jesse well: he fills out, the worry lines in his face slowly replaced by laugh lines, his smile and charm coming even easier than it had before. He still works hard, cognizant more than most about how it can all disappear in moment. 

Gabe is smitten. 

He pretends he's not, of course. He's only ever kind and professional at work - he is, after all, Jesse’s boss. But Gabe can't help being taken in by Jesse’s smile, his charm, his kindness and strength in the face of everything he's weathered. 

“You’re looking happier, Gabriel,” Ana comments one afternoon, accepting her usual cup of tea from Gabe with a lingering look. She squints. “Something’s different.”

“Nothing’s different,” Gabe protests. Ana hums, unconvinced. 

“Did you meet someone?” she asks. Gabe splutters. 

“What? No - I -”

“All this time I’ve known you, I’ve never known you to talk about a girlfriend, a boyfriend, anyone,” she says. 

“Neither have you,” Gabe points out. Ana tuts. 

“I have a daughter, that’s more important.”

“Maybe I have a secret family,” Gabe says. 

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” Ana says. “There’s a lightness about you - I don’t remember seeing it before.”

“Must’ve changed the light bulbs or something,” Gabe says. Ana shakes her head a little, giving him a knowing look even as she leaves the coffee shop. Gabe wonders if it's as obvious to others as it is to Ana - but nobody else makes any comments. 

Those late nights in the kitchen become cherished hours. Slowly, Jesse has been opening up to Gabe. They've built an immense trust in the weeks and months they've been working side by side, taking their lunches together, spending long hours opening and closing the shop. Gabe’s confided in Jesse things he hasn't told anyone for years and years. It's nice to have a confidant again - even if that's all it ever is. 

“You don't have any family?” Gabe asks, up to his elbows in flour. He just got done explaining an elaborate story about one of his sister’s children’s birthday and the ensuing family drama about the kind of cake that was appropriate for a seven year old. Jesse, sleeves rolled up and skillfully kneading his dough, doesn't look up. 

“Nah. I mean - my mom died when I was a kid, and my dad was a piece of shit, so. I been on my own for a long time,” Jesse says. It's more than Jesse has shared in the entire time that Gabe has known him; Gabe knows better than to pry, and Jesse is an immensely private person. Gabe looks down at the pastry bench. 

“I'm sorry,” he says awkwardly. Jesse lets out a short laugh. 

“It ain't nothing to be sorry about,” Jesse says. “You ain't been nothing but nice to me.”

“Sure, but a person can't go their whole life alone.”

“I been doing alright.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to anymore.”

Jesse looks up at that, meeting Gabe’s eyes with an incomprehensible look of his own. His eyes search Gabe’s face - looking for what, Gabe can’t begin to guess, can’t  _ let _ himself speculate - but it makes something flutter in his chest. Gabe swallows hard, not daring to look away first. The corner of Jesse’s mouth twitches. 

“Guess I don’t.”

=-=-=

It happens one unseasonably warm late spring evening. Gabe and Jesse are hauling in the flour delivery when one of them - later, neither will admit to it - slips on a wet patch on the freshly mopped kitchen floor. Both of them go down, one of the huge bags of flour exploding in a puff of white. They end up in a heap, tangled up in each other’s limbs. Gabe sits up, rubbing flour out of his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. Suddenly, Jesse’s face is close to his, dusted in white, eyes smiling. He reaches up and brushes flour off Gabe’s lips with his thumb before he leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to Gabe’s mouth. 

Gabe lets his eyes flutter shut, tilting his head into the kiss, savoring the soft feeling of Jesse’s mouth on his own. Jesse’s hand has come to rest on his jaw, cupping his cheek gently, surprisingly sweet and tender. Jesse pulls away first. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. Gabe blinks, flour still in his eyelashes. 

“Don't apologize,” Gabe says. Jesse looks at him shyly, through flour-dusted eyelashes of his own. “Unless you dropped that bag of flour on purpose.”

“Me?” Jesse says, taken aback. Gabe is smiling, though, nervous, his heart pounding in his chest. He's given Jesse an out - if he changed his mind, he'd have the choice to walk away, pretend it never happened. But then Jesse starts laughing, bright and possibly the most genuinely happy sound Gabe has ever heard come from his mouth. Jesse leans in again and takes Gabe’s face in both hands. His eyes search Gabe’s. “Gabe, I been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Gabe feels the color rise to his cheeks. “You never said anything.”

“Well,” Jesse huffs out a little laugh. “What was I supposed to say?”

“Anything?”

Jesse shakes his head. “How about I kiss you again instead?”

And he does. This time, he kisses Gabe a little harder, a little deeper, the tentativeness gone but his touch still gentle and deceivingly soft given the callouses on his hands. Gabe shouldn't be surprised - Jesse has proven that he can be delicate when he shapes dough, but Gabe never allowed himself to imagine what those hands would feel like on  _ him _ . 

They part only to catch their breaths. Gabe leans his forehead against Jesse’s. 

“We should clean this up,” Gabe says. Jesse nudges his nose against Gabe’s, like he doesn't want to pull away, like he's starved for the touch. Gabe knows the feeling too well. 

“Uh huh.”

“But I… I really want to keep kissing you.”

“We’ll work fast then.”

They don’t end up working too fast, though - they pause too many times to kiss each other again, covered in flour, tasting it, dry and powdery, on each other’s lips, trying to brush it away but only making more of a mess. Laughing. Smiling. More kisses. Gabe will never think of flour the same way again. 

=-=-=

Gabe finds kissing Jesse comes to him as easily and as naturally as breathing. He was never much for public displays of affection, but both of them seem to be touch-starved enough to need the constant reminders, little affectionate touches even when someone might notice. They steal kisses in the kitchen or storeroom, lean in close when they're behind the counter together, touch arms and hands and the small of each other’s backs whenever they pass by the other. Jesse is smiling bigger and brighter than he had before - he's even taken to whistling. And Gabe, not that he was ever particularly  _ surly _ , smiles so much his cheeks hurt. 

“It's Jesse, isn't it?” Ana asks. Caught off guard, Gabe spills a little bit of the piping hot water for Ana’s tea over his hand. He grabs a towel quickly without turning around. 

“What?”

“I see how you look at him, Gabriel,” Ana says, her tone severe but her smile and sparkling eyes giving her away. “And how he looks at  _ you _ when you're not looking.”

“It’d be disgusting if it weren't so adorable,” Wake chimes in, leaning over from the espresso machine. Gabe’s head snaps around to look at her. 

“You know?” Gabe asks. 

“Aha!” Ana exclaims, looking extremely pleased with herself. Wake rolls her eyes at Gabe. 

“You guys are like,  _ painfully  _ obvious,” Wake says. “Also Fred said he saw you guys kissing in the stockroom.”

Gabe feels his whole face go hot. Ana laughs and laughs. 

“What’s that face for, boss? It's not like it's a  _ bad _ thing,” Wake says, going back to her espresso machine, wiping down the steam wand with a towel. “It's actually like, really cute.”

Gabe passes Ana her cup of tea. Ana tuts at him. 

“You're not as subtle as you think you are, Gabriel,” she says. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“I should've known you, of all people, would figure it out,” he says. Ana’s smile softens. 

“I care about you,” she says. “I don't just come here for the good tea, you know. I'll have to tell Fareeha the good news.”

Gabe ducks his head a little, but is smiling. Ana pats his hand. 

“Are you happy?” she asks. Gabe peeks back up at her. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Knew it!” Wake hoots. “You've been making eyes at each other for ages. It's about time.”

Gabe tugs his soft grey beanie off his head and scrubs a hand through his curls, embarrassed. 

“It is,” Ana agrees. “Tell Jesse I said hello.”

“I will,” Gabe says, resetting the beanie over his curls, still pink. Once Ana is gone, Gabe turns back to Wake. “Who else knows?”

“Oh, like basically everyone,” Wake says. She pauses, looking thoughtful. “Maybe not Mikey but he’s kind of a dense idiot.”

Gabe makes a face. He thought they were being careful - he  _ is  _ Jesse’s boss after all. He wouldn't want any of his other employees getting the wrong idea, or to think that he's playing favorites. 

“I'm glad nobody thought to ask,” Gabe says, with a little roll of his eyes. Wake grins at him. 

“Pretty sure Stef and Prithi had a bet running on who would spill the beans first,” Wake says. Gabe groans. 

“You're all fired!”

“Oh, c’mon. You love us,” Wake says, blowing him a kiss. She's right and Gabe is more than happy to admit it: the Blackwatch crew has been the closest thing he's had to family for a long time. He wants them to be happy as much as they - apparently - want him to be happy. It's a nice feeling. 

Later, Gabe relates the story to Jesse over dinner in his apartment. Jesse looks sheepish for a moment, suddenly very interested in his spaghetti. Gabe sets his fork down. 

“What?”

“I may have told Fred about us,” Jesse says, peeking up at Gabe. Gabe blinks. 

“No wonder everyone knows,” Gabe says with a groan. Jesse shrugs. 

“Did you want to… keep it a secret?” Jesse asks. There's something about the quality of his voice that gives Gabe pause. He looks almost afraid to hear the answer. Gabe reaches across the table and covers Jesse’s hand with his own. 

“I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Gabe says. Jesse searches Gabe’s face, his dark eyes boring into Gabe’s own. 

“You gave me choices nobody else let me have,” Jesse says slowly after a few moments. He tangles his fingers with Gabe’s. “I'm a grown man. I can make the decisions for myself.”

Gabe lets his breath out and smiles, squeezing Jesse’s hand. 

“I'm glad you chose me,” he says. Jesse looks up again, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Hell, Gabe,” he says, his eyes brightening, practically sparkling. “I’d choose you a million times over.”

“Only a million?” Gabe says, teasing. Jesse rolls his eyes, pulling his hand away so he can go back to his pasta. 

“Now you're fishing.”

Gabe laughs, feeling relieved, lighter. They finish dinner and leave the dishes in the sink so that they can fall into bed, limbs tangled and faces close. Gabe can't remember the last time he felt so incandescently happy. 

=-=-=

“Try this one,” Gabe insists, sliding another small mug down the counter to Jesse, who’s standing at the register. Jesse takes the cup and sniffs at the hot coffee. 

“You know they all taste the same to me,” Jesse says. Gabe groans dramatically. 

“You can't say that,” he says, pretending to sprawl over the espresso machine. “You work in an  _ artisanal  _ coffee shop.”

“I just wash dishes,” Jesse objects playfully. 

“Please,” Gabe says. “You could run the place better than me I bet.”

“Hardly,” Jesse takes a sip of the coffee and makes a face. “Needs cream and sugar.”

Gabe groans again. “I can't believe you said that.” 

“Look -” Jesse laughs, but stops as the shop door opens and a blond man in an impeccable navy suit walks in. Gabe blinks and straightens. 

“Jack,” Gabe says, caught off guard. “I didn't know you were in town.”

Jack Morrison, head of the Overwatch Collective and Blackwatch Brews’ legal owner, pauses in the entrance, eyes sweeping the shop. Gabe suddenly feels acutely aware of every little thing that's out of place. He finds himself wondering when the last time they mopped was - even though he knows very well they did before closing last night. There's something about Jack that sets Gabe’s teeth on edge; having to sell Blackwatch Brews to keep the lights on never quite sat right with Gabe, and the persistent feeling of Overwatch hovering over his shoulder doesn’t make the situation feel any less tense. Even though he owes a lot to Jack and his company, Gabe can't help but feel a little prickle of resentment. 

“Last minute meetings. Thought I'd pop in to see how things are going,” Jack says, eyes settling on Gabe and Jesse behind the counter. Gabe has this insane urge to stand in front of Jesse, shield him from Jack’s cool gaze. 

“Well, can I get you anything? We just got some new samples of Brazilian in, if you'd like,” Gabe says. 

“Sure,” Jack says, eyes still unsettlingly focused on Gabe and Jesse. Gabe moves to get the pour over started, slipping around Jesse as he does so. “I didn’t know you hired someone new.”

Gabe nearly drops the cup he’s holding. He looks back over his shoulder at Jack. “Oh, yeah. A while ago,” Gabe says. “Jesse, this is Jack Morrison. He works with the Overwatch Collective.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jesse says politely. 

“You too,” Jack says. Gabe goes back to brewing the coffee, mind racing, wondering just how closely looks at Blackwatch Brews’ business. They only care if he's making money - that's what they've told him. That's what he agreed to when he signed the business away: Overwatch gets a substantial cut of the profits and Gabe is free to run the business as he sees fit. 

But Jesse’s name has never been on the payroll. 

Gabe slides the fresh cup of coffee across the counter to Jack. 

“Any pastries to go with that?” Gabe asks. 

“Not today, thanks,” Jack says. “I might sit for a bit, though.”

“Of course. Take your time - let us know if you need anything.”

Jack is already moving away from the counter to one of the plush chairs in the corner of the shop. Gabe avoids Jesse’s eyes - he's sure Jesse has questions, but now is not the time. He just needs a moment to figure out what he needs to do. 

“I'm going to check a few things in the back,” Gabe says vaguely. “Yell if you need anything.”

He doesn't stop to see if Jesse has anything to say - Gabe makes a beeline for his little desk in the storage room and allows himself a moment to panic. He's been paying Jesse under the table for months, since he first came in to wash dishes. Gabe was smart enough to pull the money out of his own pocket, of course, but still: if Jack has questions… Gabe should've been prepared for this. He let himself get carried away. 

“Gabe?” Jesse’s voice floats back to him. Gabe pick up his head abruptly, snapping around to look at Jesse. He doesn't have any sense for how long he's been hiding back here, and a different kind of guilt wells up in his chest. “Your friend is leaving.”

Gabe tries not to read too much into the way Jesse says  _ friend _ . He stands up. 

“I'll be right there,” he says. Jesse nods and ducks away. Gabe forces himself to take one, two calming breaths. He drags his beanie off his head and scrubs a hand through his curls before he tugs it back on. Another deep breath. He steels himself and goes back out to say good bye. 

Jack is standing by the register, looking bored, one foot tapping impatiently. 

“Sorry about that,” Gabe says. Jack’s head swivels to look at him. “Glad you could drop by.”

Jack flashes Gabe a smile that doesn’t quite read as genuine. Gabe mentally chides himself - he’s being paranoid. Jack has no reason to suspect anything is amiss. 

“It was long overdue,” Jack says. “We’ll have to have a real visit soon.”

Gabe feels his own smile tighten on his face. “Looking forward to it,” he manages to say. Jack nods, turning his icy blue eyes on Jesse, who’s standing a few feet down the counter from Gabe. 

“Nice to meet you, Jesse,” Jack says. “See you soon, Gabe.”

Jack leaves Blackwatch Brews as abruptly as he came. Gabe lets his breath out in a woosh, though the tension is still sitting high in his shoulders. He grips the edge of counter.

“What was that all about?” Jesse asks, keeping distance between them, a casual note in his voice that rings false. Gabe glances over at Jesse. 

“I don’t love unexpected visits from corporate,” Gabe says, and it’s not quite a lie. Still, he hates himself for the lapse in truth. There’s a long enough pause that Gabe makes himself look at Jesse. Jesse is focused on cleaning the espresso machine, his eyes focused on the task in front of him, his strong, capable hands going through the familiar motions. Gabe is overwhelmed, suddenly, by how much he loves those hands. His breath catches in his throat: four letters he did not expect to present themselves in his mind. He swallows his emotions and moves down the counter. Slowly, gently, he slides up behind Jesse, resting a hand on his hip and his chin on Jesse’s shoulder, needing - suddenly - to be close. Jesse, however, doesn’t exactly lean into his touch. 

“Or that Jack guy?”

“I don’t care much for him either,” Gabe says. At that, Jesse half-turns in Gabe’s arms. 

“You ain’t got… history with him?”

“History?” Gabe repeats. Jesse averts his eyes, looking somewhere above Gabe’s right shoulder. 

“You guys were together?”

Gabe blinks, recoiling a little at the thought. Jesse’s face goes hard as he pulls away completely. Gabe blinks again and grabs Jesse’s hand before he goes too far. 

“No - no. You’ve got the wrong idea,” Gabe says quickly. He squeezes Jesse’s hand, desperate to keep him close. It does manage to make Jesse stop from moving away. He looks at Gabe from the corner of his eye. “I had to sell the shop,” Gabe says, dropping his voice low and glad for the afternoon lull. “A long time ago - to keep the lights on, to be able to pay my employees, to keep being able to do what I love doing. I didn’t want to but… it was my only choice. Or I thought so. I can’t shake the feeling that I got talked into something I didn’t really want.” Gabe lets go of Jesse’s hand to rub at his eyes. He’s suddenly very, very tired. “Jack assured me I could run the shop how I wanted. It’s never been an issue - aside from them breathing down my neck for more and more profits.”

“Oh,” Jesse says. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright,” Gabe says. “I thought you knew.” The corner of his mouth twitches up. “I guess I didn’t exactly mention that I hadn’t been with anyone since… For a long time, before we got together?”

Jesse blinks, taken aback. “You? Really?”

“Really,” Gabe says, color rising to his cheeks. Jesse looks him up and down.

“But you’re so… so…”

“What?” Gabe asks, self-conscious. Jesse grabs up his hand again and pulls him close. 

“Handsome,” Jesse says, almost all traces of worry gone from his face. “For starters. Hot, funny, a  _ great _ cook - should I keep goin’?”

Gabe pitches forward and kisses Jesse hard, embarrassed but pleased with himself. Jesse relaxes into the kiss. 

“Sorry I spooked you,” Gabe murmurs against Jesse’s lips. Jesse shakes his head, just once. 

“Sorry I doubted you.”

Gabe wraps his arms around Jesse and kisses him deeply. 

“Ahem,” Fred’s voice floats over to them. “Did we change what kind of shop this is? Or are we closed and nobody told me?”

Gabe jumps away sheepishly, though Jesse is less quick to step away. Fred grins at them. 

“Get a room?” he suggests. Jesse returns Fred’s grin. 

“Well, I guess you’re not home…”

“Don’t!” Fred groans. “I don’t even want to think about it. No offense, boss.”

“None taken,” Gabe says, pink. 

The afternoon returns to normal. Fred and Jesse trade jokes and teasing back and forth right up until closing. Gabe all but forgets about the anxiety of Jack’s unexpected visit. Jesse pushes the thoughts even further from his head in bed that night, his hands and lips and tongue melting all the worry out of Gabe’s body, sapping the tension from his very bones. He becomes pliant in Jesse’s capable hands, head tipped back onto his pillows and moaning Jesse’s name as he comes apart, shaking under Jesse’s bulk until Jesse draws him into his arms. Gabe rests his cheek against Jesse’s bare chest and drifts off to sleep, content. 

=-=-=

Two weeks later, the request comes from the Overwatch Collective directly. Gabe stares at his email, the anxiety returning in a rush and his heart sinking in his chest. Overwatch is conducting an audit of its portfolio companies, and has requested full operational details for each of its holdings: cash flows, financial statements, and… payroll and employee details. There is to be an on site audit and training session as well. Jack is CC’d on the email, but the address is one of the corporate distribution lists. 

Gabe stares at the excel template he’s supposed to populate with employee details. He has everyone’s information but Jesse’s. He remembers, vaguely, Jesse saying he didn’t have ID, back when Gabe first offered him a job. He didn’t think anything of it at the time - Jesse was homeless, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities. And then they had fallen into such an easy routine that Gabe just never… thought to ask. Jesse was dependable and trustworthy - he never gave Gabe any reason to think otherwise. Plus, Jesse didn’t like speaking about his past; Gabe gets the impression that Jesse’s had a rough life and Gabe doesn’t want to make him relive it. The past was the past - it doesn’t matter now. 

Except that maybe it does. 

Gabe fills out the paperwork and sends it back to the corporate headquarters, leaving out Jesse’s details. Everything else is in order - Gabe keeps impeccable records, and Overwatch has never had a reason to question his record keeping. He hopes that his track record will save him from closer scrutiny. 

He spends the next week and a half on pins and needles, quiet and on edge. Jesse notices, of course - everyone does. It’s a marked change from his more relaxed, happy attitude he’s been sporting since he and Jesse became an item. But Gabe brushes their concerns off. He doesn’t want anyone to worry unnecessarily. This is on him. He will take care of his staff as he always has, no matter what. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Jesse blurts out one day, over their morning coffee. Gabe blinks and sets down his mug with a light tap. 

“What?” he asks, confused, taking a moment to come back to the present. 

“You’ve been so… so…” Jesse trails off, searching for the word. “Distant,” he says finally. His eyes search Gabe’s face, a worried pinch between his brows. Gabe feels a pang somewhere around his heart. He reaches across the little table and covers Jesse’s hand with his own. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says. “There’s just… a lot going on.”

“Anything I can help with?” Jesse says, frowning. Gabe shakes his head abruptly. 

“No. No - it’s alright. I’m sorry. Once we get this whole corporate thing over with… It’ll be better. I’ll be better,” Gabe says, trying to make it sound decisive. 

“If you’re sure.”

Gabe squeezes his hand again. He doesn’t want Jesse to have to struggle anymore, he doesn’t want Jesse to worry or suffer. If Gabe can do it for him, he will. It’s the least he can do for him. 

“I’m sure.”

Jesse doesn’t look convinced, but Gabe can’t let him worry. He leans across the table and brushes his lips over Jesse’s scruffy cheek. Jesse tips his head up to Gabe. 

“You’d tell me if it was something I should know, right?” Jesse says. Gabe swallows and nods. 

“Of course,” he says. Jesse scans his face, then drops his gaze, apparently deciding to let it go. Gabe gets up and moves to put his dishes away. 

“I just don’t… like secrets, Gabe,” Jesse says when Gabe’s back is turned, just loud enough for him to hear. Gabe pauses at the sink, feeling something like guilt rise in his throat. 

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Jesse,” Gabe says. He means it, for whatever that’s worth. “I’m taking care of everything.”

Blackwatch Brews is closed at the end of the week for the corporate training. Gabe sleeps horribly the night before, tossing and turning, keeping Jesse awake most of the night too. Jesse gives up on trying to hold him close and ends up curling up on the very edge of the bed. Gabe lies back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, wracked by anxiety and guilt. The alarm goes off and he drags himself out of bed first, sparing a glance at Jesse as he goes. Jesse has the blankets drawn up to his nose, hunched under the comforter, his long dark eyelashes brushing his cheekbones. He looks so vulnerable. The urge to protect him rises up again. Gabe squares his shoulders. He can do this. 

Gabe gets down to the shop first and starts a pot of coffee brewing. Jesse lets himself in a few minutes afterwards. 

“I didn’t hear you get up,” he says, coming over to help himself to a coffee. Gabe kisses his cheek. 

“Didn’t want to wake you,” Gabe says. He presses a mug into Jesse’s hands - full of cream and sugar, just like he always takes it. It’s the least he can do. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

“At least this whole thing is almost over, huh?”

Gabe forces himself to smile, though he’s sure it comes out more like a grimace. “At least.”

The rest of the Blackwatch crew trickles in: Stef, punctual as always, followed shortly by Michael, then Prithi and Fred. Tack drags Wake in last, just barely on time. Everyone drags some chairs together to eat their pastries and sip their coffee, the chatter minimal as everyone does their best to wake up. Gabe finds that he can barely make himself swallow the warm scones he made for everyone. It sticks in his throat. He washes it down with an excessive amount of coffee that only serves to make him even more jittery. 

Jack Morrison knocks on the front door of the shop at exactly 8 o’clock. Gabe goes to let him and a young blonde woman into the shop. He stands aside so they can pass through. 

“Morning,” Gabe says. Jack nods to him politely. 

“Good morning. This is Angela Ziegler, she’ll be assisting us today,” Jack says. Gabe shakes Angela’s hand as Jack’s eyes sweep the coffee shop. “Everyone’s here?”

“Ready to go,” Gabe says. “Would either of you like some coffee? There’s pastries too.”

“Sure,” Jack says. Gabe leads them over to where his staff are sitting and nursing their second or third cups of coffee. Angela helps herself to a large mug of coffee and a pastry, but Jack turns to Gabe. He holds his breath. 

“You and I need to discuss something first,” Jack says. “Angela, why don’t you get started with everyone else?”

“Of course,” Angela says, putting down her mug hastily. She opens her folio and starts passing out papers to everyone. Jack looks at Gabe, his expression inscrutable. 

“Your office?” he asks. Gabe swallows. 

“This way.”

Gabe leads him into the stockroom, feeling like he’s moving through molasses. His blood is rushing in his ears and he can’t believe how  _ stupid _ he is to think that he would be able to get away with this. When the door closes behind him, he turns to face Jack. 

“I’m missing some paperwork,” Jack says, pulling a tablet out of his briefcase. “Employment paperwork.”

Gabe closes his eyes briefly. “Must’ve forgotten it,” he says. Jack looks up from the tablet. 

“I got six employees’ papers, but I counted seven out there,” Jack says. “And you didn’t submit your own details.”

“I thought you had everything,” Gabe says. His voice rises slightly on ‘everything’ even though he doesn’t mean to - what more can Jack and Overwatch take away from him, really? Jack shrugs. 

“New forms, new policies,” Jack says. “It’s not a problem. We can have you fill it out while we’re here. And whoever’s missing.” He looks down at his tablet again. “I have papers for Edwards, Jayachandran, two Newtons, Shiga and Valdez. Who’s missing?”

Gabe swallows. “Jesse.”

Jack blinks and looks back up at Gabe. “The new hire? He’s not on payroll.”

“He’s… He’s new.”

“Not that new,” Jack frowns. “Gabe, you can’t  _ not _ pay him.”

“He’s paid,” Gabe says defensively. Jack’s frown deepens. 

“There’s rules,” Jack says slowly, enunciating each word. Gabe can’t tell if he’s imagining the condescension or not. There’s certainly at least a bored tone in his voice - Jack always gives the impression that he has other, much more  _ important _ things to be doing than whatever he’s currently handling. “The Overwatch Collective requires that you file all of your paperwork correctly if you want to continue receiving our assistance.”

“It’s complicated,” Gabe says weakly. Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I know you want to do things your way, Gabe. This is just a small thing that lets you do what you want to do. Let’s just get his information and be done with it,” Jack says. Before Gabe can say anything, Jack is already moving to the door and sticking his head out. “Jesse, will you come back here for a moment?”

Gabe’s head spins with the possibilities. He should’ve told Jesse to stay home today - he should’ve done  _ something _ to prevent this from happening. Now he’s created a bigger mess than he meant to. 

Jesse comes into the stockroom, giving Gabe a queer look as the door closes behind him. 

“We seem to be missing your I-9,” Jack says, pulling up a form on his tablet. He hands the tablet to Jesse. “Just fill in your information and we’ll make sure everything's squared away.”

Jesse takes the tablet, scanning it briefly. He looks up abruptly. “I can’t fill this out.”

Gabe’s heart sinks. Jack blinks, then frowns. “It’s for employment. For payroll and benefits.”

Jesse shakes his head. He holds the tablet back out, a muscle working in his jaw. “I can’t fill this out.”

“Then you can’t work here,” Jack says, as if it’s obvious. Either, or. Black and white. No negotiation. This is what Gabe hates most about Overwatch breathing down his neck; for all their talk of saying Gabe can run things the way he wants to, the reality is much different. 

“Jesse -” Gabe starts to say. Jesse doesn’t look at him. 

“I’m a felon,” Jesse says, keeping his eyes on Jack. He sticks his chin out. “Nobody wants to hire me.”

Gabe does a double take. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Jesse still isn’t looking at him. Jack, for whatever it’s worth, doesn’t seem fazed by this development. 

“Well, Gabe did,” Jack says, still in that bored tone. “Overwatch has an equal opportunity hiring policy. In fact, we get tax credits for hiring ex-cons.” He pauses and looks at Jesse a little closer. “You are an  _ ex _ -con, right?”

“I did my time,” Jesse says, voice hard. Jack hands the tablet back to Jesse. 

“Fill out the papers then. You want benefits, don’t you?” 

Gabe feels completely, absolutely horrible. He should’ve just  _ asked _ instead of avoiding the topic entirely. But they had been having such a nice time, and there never seemed to be a moment to bring it up… Gabe mentally kicks himself - in his effort to protect Jesse, he’s only managed to hurt him. As much as he wants to be angry at Jack for forcing this situation, Gabe knows he only has himself to blame. 

Jesse still doesn’t look at him as he fills out the paperwork. He hands the tablet back to Jack and rejoins the group without ever looking at Gabe. It makes his chest ache. 

The rest of the day’s corporate training is suitably boring. Gabe doesn’t pay attention hardly at all, spending most of the time trying to catch Jesse’s eyes, trying to telepathically apologize to him. At the end of the day, Jesse leaves abruptly with Fred, leaving Gabe alone to close up the shop and go home. 

Gabe eats dinner alone, showers alone, goes to bed alone. In the morning, he opens up shop alone. Stef and Tack come for the morning shift, but Jesse doesn’t show up. If either of them notice, they don’t say anything. When Fred comes in for the afternoon shift, Gabe corners him in the stockroom. 

“Jesse?” Fred blinks. “I thought he went to your place last night.”

Gabe’s heart sinks. He manages to shake his head. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh,” Fred says, brow furrowing, a worried look coming over his face. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing,” he says, though his tone betrays his words. What he leaves unsaid - that Jesse is predictable, has a schedule, is always either at work, Gabe’s or at home - hangs in the air between them. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says. He waves Fred off, even though he doesn’t know where else Jesse would go or how he’s supposed to find him. Jesse joked that a phone seems like a waste of money when the only person he’d call is Gabe, and they spend most of their time together already. The thought occurs to Gabe that maybe Jesse doesn’t want to be found. 

He’s made a real mess of this. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that. Gabe rubs a hand over his face and goes back out to face the afternoon rush. It’s not distracting enough, though, and his mind is elsewhere the rest of the afternoon, mulling over the possibilities, jumping to conclusions, filling in the blanks that Jesse has left behind.  

That night, Gabe closes up the shop by himself, makes the dough for the next day’s pastries by himself. He goes home, alone, and eats dinner, alone. After so many weeks of Jesse’s near-constant company, Gabe feels the loneliness acutely. His bed feels too big, too empty. Eventually, he falls asleep restlessly after tossing and turning for what feels like most of the night.

Gabe only just managed to really fall asleep when a knock on his front door jerks him awake. He sits up in bed, disoriented, the sheets pooling in his lap. He wonders if he imagined the noise, but there’s another knock - louder this time, more insistent. Gabe stumbles up out of bed and flicks on the light on his way to the door. When he opens it, he’s surprised and relieved to find Jesse standing there, swaying slightly on the spot. Jesse looks a little worse for wear - his lip his split and his eyes are bleary and Gabe can smell the whiskey on his breath even from where he stands. 

“Jesse,” Gabe breathes, relieved in spite of himself. “What happened?”

“I came to say g’bye,” Jesse says, the words slurring together. Gabe feels his chest seize up. 

“Good bye?” Gabe echoes softly. Jesse bobs his head, and his whole body sways with the movement. He’s having trouble focusing on Gabe’s face - or maybe he doesn’t actually want to look at him. 

“G’bye,” Jesse says. “‘Cause - ‘cause you ain’t gonna want me anymore. ‘Cause of what I did.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, reaching for him. “Why don’t you come inside?”

Jesse bats Gabe’s hand away. The gesture nearly makes him lose his balance, but Gabe is quick enough to steady him. Jesse practically collapses at the touch, slumping forward into Gabe’s arms. Surprised at the sudden weight, Gabe stumbles back a few steps. 

“I gotta go,” Jesse mumbles, voice pained and hoarse, breath hot against Gabe’s neck. “I gotta go. I can’t stay.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything, just hauls Jesse in through the door and kicks it shut behind them. Jesse doesn’t put up a fight, but he’s a dead weight, making it difficult for Gabe to get him properly inside. Gabe deposits him as gently as possible onto the couch and sits on the coffee table across from Jesse. 

“Jesse, what happened?” Gabe asks. Jesse, slumped back against the cushions, raises his eyes and looks at Gabe. There’s clear hurt in his eyes - and something like regret. 

“I ain’t good, Gabe,” Jesse says, his voice quiet, pained. “I ain’t good - and I never told you… I can’t stay here. I gotta go.”

Jesse makes a movement to get up but Gabe pushes him back down onto the sofa before he realizes what he’s doing. He freezes. Jesse lets out a little whimper. 

“Please, Gabe, don’t - don’t make it harder than it’s gotta be.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says pleadingly. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Jesse sucks in a shaky breath. “I told you. I told - I told Jack too. I’m a felon. I ain’t - I ain’t good. I can’t stay here.”

Gabe screws up his face. “That doesn’t matter, Jesse. Whatever you did - that doesn’t have anything to do with who you are now.”

Jesse looks at him, eyes piercing Gabe to his core. He swallows thickly. 

“Ain’t you ever wonder why I was diggin’ in your garbage? Or how come I didn’t want to go to the shelter?” Jesse asks, his tone going harsher. “I ain’t good. Nobody wants me, and I - I don’t want to ruin you too.”

Gabe slips off the edge of the coffee table to his knees in front of Jesse. He takes Jesse’s hands in his own. Jesse tries to pull away but Gabe redoubles his grip. 

“Jesse,” Gabe says sternly, trying not to let the desperation bleed into his voice. Jesse presses his lips together. “You couldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

Jesse’s expression contorts. He tries to take his hands away again, but Gabe holds on tight. 

“Listen to me, Jesse,” Gabe says. Something about his voice makes Jesse fall still, his eyes boring into Gabe’s. “I love you.”

Jesse blinks, the words not sinking in immediately. Then all of a sudden, he yanks his hands out of Gabe’s and scrambles up off the couch, putting a room’s length of distance between them with surprising speed.  

“Don’t,” Jesse says. “Don’t fucking - you don’t know what I did! You wouldn’t be sayin’ that if - if -”

Gabe gets to his feet hurriedly, nearly tripping over the edge of the coffee table. He stops and steadies himself. “Are you listening to me, Jesse? I don’t care. You’ve only ever been good to me.”

Jesse makes a pained noise, hands curled into fists at his sides. He looks away, chest heaving. “I ain’t though. I ain’t good.”

Gabe takes a tentative step towards Jesse. “All I’ve ever known about you is good, Jesse.”

“I killed someone,” Jesse says. He swings his head back around to look at Gabe, a muscle working in his jaw. His eyes are shiny, glazed over. “When I was a kid. There was a robbery and - and they died. ‘Cause of me.”

Gabe stops in his tracks. Jesse lets out a hollow sounding laugh. “Yeah? See? Knew it’d change your mind.”

“That was a long time ago,” Gabe says slowly, carefully. Jesse tips his head back to the ceiling. His voice cracks when he speaks again. 

“It still happened.”

“And I still love you.”

Jesse makes a pained noise. “Don’t.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, pleadingly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t want to jinx it. “You’re not that person any more.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Gabe says. “You’ve been impossibly good to me, you’ve worked hard. You’ve earned your place at the shop. You’ve made me feel -” Gabe stops, swallows. “You’ve made me feel more like a person than I’ve felt in a long time. Like I’ve got a reason to get up in the morning that isn’t just caffeinating this side of town. Like I could be a better person, even.”

“Gabe,” Jesse says, shaking his head. Gabe takes a small step towards Jesse, who tears his eyes away from the ceiling at the movement. 

“Jesse, I love you,” Gabe says. “And I’m - I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had to hide things from me.”

Jesse bites his split lip hard enough to make it start bleeding again. Gabe takes another step forward and Jesse doesn’t move. 

“I should’ve told you that Jack was going to ask about your paperwork,” Gabe says. “I was - I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Jesse says, watching Gabe take another step toward him but not making any movement to get away. 

“I know that,” Gabe says. “Or, I do now, at least.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Gabe says. “I didn’t want Jack to make you go away or for you to get spooked or…”

Gabe trails off. He’s standing maybe three feet away from Jesse, who has locked eyes with him again as he sways gently on the spot. 

“Because you love me,” Jesse says quietly, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. Gabe nods. 

“Oh,” Jesse says. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. Gabe almost regrets saying it - and saying it so many times - but he needed Jesse to hear it, to understand it, to see how much he means to him… The thought didn’t occur to Gabe until it was too late that Jesse might not remember any of this in the morning, or maybe Jesse doesn’t want it, or… He holds Jesse’s gaze, heart thumping in his chest. 

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Gabe says finally, after the silence stretches on for far too long. He tries not to think about what that might mean, that he’s maybe made this whole situation worse than it already is. “It’s late. Do you want to shower? You should drink some water too.”

Gabe doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts moving. He lets Jesse shower while he gets blankets for the sofa. He sets out some clean sweats on the bed and a glass of water on the nightstand. He sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for Jesse to come out of the bathroom. 

“You take the bed,” Gabe says, hopping to his feet when the bathroom door opens and Jesse emerges in a puff of steam, towel wrapped around his waist. He looks a little brighter around the eyes - less bleary, at least. He shakes his head at Gabe. 

“I can’t -”

“Take the bed, Jesse,” Gabe says firmly. He stands and moves back into the living room, sliding under the covers of the makeshift bed on the sofa before Jesse can say anything else. Gabe switches off the side table light and listens to Jesse move around in the bedroom. The bedroom light goes off and the noises stop. Gabe closes his eyes. He’s certain he won’t be able to sleep at all with the way his gut is twisting in his chest, but he should at least try. 

Somewhere far away, Gabe’s alarm goes off. He shifts, blinking sluggishly. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and he can’t figure out why he can’t move. It takes him a minute to realize that the weight on his chest is Jesse, who appears to have wedged himself onto the sofa with Gabe at some point during the night, his head tucked under Gabe’s chin. Gabe is pinned. Jesse’s sour whiskey breath makes Gabe’s stomach flip over but he can’t bring himself to move him. 

Fortunately, the persistent alarm ringing somewhere by Gabe’s bed seems to rouse Jesse from his sleep. He blinks open his eyes with difficulty and squints. 

“Sofa?” he rasps. 

“I tried to give you the bed,” Gabe says. Jesse blinks then scrambles up, wobbles and slides off Gabe, sitting down hard on the floor. He peeks up over the edge of the sofa at Gabe. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, wide-eyed with a worried pinch between his eyebrows. Gabe sits up carefully. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Jesse,” Gabe says. Jesse chews on his bottom lip. “Careful - you’ll split it open again.”

Jesse puts his fingers to his lips, then drops his hand back into his lap. “I didn’t - I don’t know know what I’m doing.”

“Sitting on the floor?” Gabe offers. Jesse shakes his head. 

“No - I mean,” Jesse pauses, sucks in a breath. He looks down at his hands. “I mean, I haven’t had it this good in… Maybe ever. I don’t want to mess it up.” Jesse peeks back up at Gabe, tentative. It’s too early for this - Gabe needs coffee before he can properly process this. But if Jesse remembers what happened last night...

“You’re not going to mess it up, Jesse,” Gabe says softly. 

“I tried pretty hard last night, I reckon,” Jesse replies. Gabe slides down off the sofa and kneels in front of Jesse. 

“It’s gonna take more than that to scare me off.”

The corner of Jesse’s mouth quirks up. “Even though I’m a convicted felon?” 

“That doesn’t define you,” Gabe says. He reaches out, haltingly, and takes one of Jesse’s hands in his own. “The man I know is good. Strong - he’s overcome a lot to get to where he is now.”

Jesse keeps his eyes on their hands. “You said - you said you love me.”

Gabe swallows. “I do.”

Jesse looks up, eyes searching Gabe’s face. Gabe wills himself not to look away, even though he feels the heat rising to his cheeks, even though he wants to squirm under Jesse’s scrutiny. Jesse’s own expression reads nervous, unsure, maybe a little doubtful. Gabe wishes he knew how to make him believe it. 

“I love you too,” Jesse says, voice barely above a whisper. Gabe’s hand tightens involuntarily around Jesse’s.

“You don’t have to - you shouldn’t feel  _ obligated _ -”

“No, Gabe, I mean it,” Jesse says, a little louder, a little more surety in his voice. “I love you.”

Gabe searches Jesse’s face. The anxiety is clear in Jesse’s eyes, the vulnerability reflected back at him. 

“Jesse -”

“I love you, Gabe,” Jesse says again. Gabe pitches forward and kisses Jesse without thinking. Jesse makes a surprised noise against Gabe’s lips and then he’s wrapping his arms around Gabe’s shoulders. It’s not a long kiss - the sour hangover taste on Jesse’s tongue is unpleasant for both of them, and Jesse’s split lip opens up again. Still, neither of them wants to pull away too far; Gabe leans his forehead against Jesse’s. 

“I love you, Jesse,” Gabe says finally, eyes downcast, looking at their hands entwined in their laps. 

“I’m glad I didn’t screw it up,” Jesse says. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that I put you in that position.”

“I oughta be the one apologizing.”

“No - no. I think… Look - maybe we ought to just start fresh? Leave all that behind us?” Gabe suggests. Jesse lifts his chin so he can meet Gabe’s eye again. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to?”

“I kinda like the sound of that.”

=-=-=

Gabe wakes before the sun warms their bedroom and slides out of bed, careful not to disturb Jesse’s sleeping form. He showers and brushes his teeth before he goes to wake Jesse. He leans down and brushes his lips over Jesse’s cheek. Jesse blinks open an eye, a sleepy smile spreading over his face. 

“Mornin’,” Jesse mumbles, thick-voiced and rumbling in his chest. Gabe kisses him sweetly. 

“I'll go get the coffee started.”

Jesse pulls him back down for one more kiss before he lets Gabe go. At the foot of the bed, the cat stretches languorously but doesn't get up, eyeing Gabe reproachfully when he scritches between her ears as leaves. 

Downstairs in the coffee shop, Gabe gets the ovens warming up. He selects a coffee from Guatemala - Jesse’s favorite - and sets it to brew. Soon, the shop is refreshed with the aroma of freshly brewing coffee. Gabe closes his eyes and inhales the scent. He hears the back door open and shut. In the kitchen, he finds Jesse, hair tied back in a little ponytail and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sliding pastries into the oven. 

“There's coffee,” Gabe says, leaning in the doorway. Jesse glances over at him and smiles. 

“I fed Oakley,” Jesse says. “I think she's getting fat.”

“She probably could use it,” Gabe says with a shrug. Jesse laughs. 

“She deserves it.”

“You spoil her,” Gabe says fondly. Jesse comes over and gives him a quick peck. 

“You spoil me.”

The two of them sit up front and sip their coffee - Jesse still with too much cream and sugar, mostly out of habit at this point. Gabe finds it endearing, though he still tries to convince Jesse to taste new roasts black first. Jesse always obliges, but not before a customary whine or two. It’s endearing.  

Gabe goes to get the pastries out of the oven while Jesse finishes setting up the shop up front. Stef lets herself in as Gabe is sliding the first tray of pastries into the display case. Soon after, Blackwatch Brews opens for the early rush, and the rest of the morning passes by in a blur. 

In the afternoon, Jesse rearranges a corner of the seating area for the group of at-risk kids that come in after school. It falls nicely in the afternoon lull, so Gabe can watch - surreptitiously, of course - while Jesse talks and laughs with the normally surly kids, who come out of their hard shells when Jesse’s around. They like hearing Jesse’s stories. He's got more believability than most adults; he was, after all, like them. Jesse’s mother was long gone when his father fell in with the wrong crowd and took Jesse with him. Jesse did what he had to do to survive, even though, at sixteen, it resulted in an armed robbery gone wrong, a trial where he was tried as an adult, and a felony conviction that would sit on his record for the rest of his life. The kids listen with rapt attention when Jesse describes what he had to do afterwards to keep his head above water, homeless and unemployable by most standards. Some of the kids nod knowingly, having already experienced what it’s like to be without a home, without prospects. Gabe always pretends he's busy when Jesse gets to the part about second chances; it's inevitable that Jesse looks in Gabe’s direction, smiling soft and warm and open, and Gabe feels himself blush every time. 

“I like what Jesse has been doing,” Ana says, nodding to the kids laughing with Jesse in the corner of the shop. “The neighborhood needed something like this.”

Gabe hands her the usual cup of tea across the counter. “I’m glad it’s made a difference.”

“What did we do to deserve you two?” Ana says fondly, shaking her head. Gabe waves her off. 

“Oh, stop. We just run our little coffee shop, that’s all.”

“Mm,” Ana hums, still smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gabriel. And tell Jesse to make more of those almond cookies, won’t you?”

“I will. See you tomorrow, Ana.”

Fred helps them close up shop that night, complaining all the while about his new roommate. Jesse laughs good-naturedly and promises to have Fred over for dinner one night to give him a reprieve from his terrible roommate. Gabe is pretty sure he overhears Jesse promising Fred that he’ll convince Gabe to make his famous enchiladas. Jesse joins Gabe in the kitchen after Fred leaves. 

“Ana requested more of those almond cookies,” Gabe says, looking up as Jesse re-rolls his sleeves. 

“Yeah?”

“They’re a hit.”

Jesse smiles. “Well, I reckon I could make more of ‘em, then.”

They go through their evening ritual of measuring and mixing, shaping and kneading, working in comfortable silence as flour turns to dough turns to pastries. Gabe slides the wrapped trays into the rack for proofing while Jesse finishes up the dishes. He slips behind Jesse, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Gabe asks, kissing just underneath Jesse’s ear. Jesse tilts his head into the kiss, smiling. 

“I think there’s some spaghetti leftover, still,” Jesse says. 

“I can make some garlic bread then,” Gabe says. Jesse shuts off the water and turns around in Gabe’s arms to kiss him properly. He tastes like honey and almonds and Gabe could happily kiss him forever. 

“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Jesse says softly, right up against Gabe’s lips. 

Together, they head up to the apartment. It's cozier since Jesse moved in: more personal knick knacks are scattered throughout, and there’s lots more blankets (Jesse likes to be warm). Oakley greets them at the door and immediately winds her way around Jesse’s ankles. Jesse bends to scoop her up. She mewls in protest but doesn’t struggle, even as Jesse plants a kiss on her little brown nose. She’s a grumpy thing with a soft spot for Jesse, who rescued her from the dumpster behind the coffee shop. Jesse likes to say she recognizes him as her kin. Gabe just shakes his head and smiles. 

Jesse feeds Oakley while Gabe gets the spaghetti reheating and some garlic bread in the oven. He drifts back over to Gabe and wraps him up in his arms while Oakley is occupied and their dinner warms up. He reaches up to tug Gabe’s beanie off, freeing his wild curls from its confines. It’s one of Gabe’s new favorite things; Jesse likes playing with his curls and Gabe can’t deny him the indulgence. Jesse’s fingers tangle up in Gabe’s hair as he peppers Gabe’s face in kisses until they’re both laughing. Gabe has to pull away to save the garlic bread from burning. 

After dinner, they end up on the sofa, Jesse reading with feet in Gabe’s lap while Gabe explores the Andromeda galaxy with his sexy alien boyfriend. 

“I’ll pretend I’m not jealous,” Jesse says, as Gabe’s character kisses the strange squid-cat creature on the screen. Gabe flushes. 

“Read your book, Jesse,” Gabe says. Jesse chuckles and readjusts his blanket before he goes back to his book -  _ Sense & Sensibility _ . 

Inevitably, though, Jesse gets tired of Gabe’s alien flirtations and abandons his book to crawl into Gabe’s lap, pushing him down on the sofa until Gabe drops his controller and lets Jesse stretch out over him, covering his face in kisses. Gabe loops his arms around Jesse’s shoulders and holds him close, tipping his head back so Jesse can get at his throat. Jesse settles between Gabe’s legs, pushing up his shirt until he can get at the smooth planes of skin and muscle underneath. Gabe’s breath comes in short pants as Jesse kisses and nips down his chest. His hands find the tie holding Jesse’s hair back and pulls it free so that his hair falls forward and tickles Gabe’s exposed skin. Gabe squirms. Jesse picks his head up, clever fingers working open Gabe’s zipper. 

They end up in bed. Oakley jumps down from the bed with a disgruntled meow in protest before she wanders away to find another spot - likely to glare at them from the windowsill. It doesn’t deter Gabe or Jesse, who are fully focused in stripping each other out of their clothes. Gabe lies back naked on the bed, watching as Jesse tosses the rest of his clothes over the side of the bed. Jesse settles between Gabe’s legs and kisses him again. Gabe slides his hands up Jesse’s bare shoulders until his fingers can card through the hair as the back of Jesse’s neck. He can't think of a time when he's ever been happier, more content. Wrapped up in Jesse’s arms, Gabe wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Jesse spreads Gabe open and sinks into him slowly, taking his time like he always does, watching Gabe with wondering eyes, his lips parted and breath coming quick. Gabe moans softly, murmuring Jesse’s name over and over, pulling him flush against his chest, needing to be as close as possible, to feel every inch of Jesse in and around him. Jesse crushes his mouth to Gabe’s when he comes, drawing a whimper from Gabe’s throat. He pulls away but doesn't go far - Gabe won't let him. They tangle together, sated and sweaty and incandescently happy. Gabe brings Jesse’s left hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against the simple gold band that rests around his ring finger. He remembers the day they went to the courthouse like it was yesterday: a warm, summer day, just the two of them - before the entire Blackwatch crew showed up to pelt them with rice. Gabe promised to have and to hold Jesse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ‘til death they should part. 

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try to get rid of me,” Jesse had said. Gabe laughed, happy tears in his eyes, and kept laughing through the kiss that Jesse pressed to his mouth while the Blackwatch crew whistled and hooted. When Jesse finally pulled away, he looked at Gabe with eyes so bright and full of love that Gabe thought he might burst. 

“I love you,” Gabe mouthed as the justice of peace declared them husbands. 

“I love you too,” Jesse mouthed back, squeezing Gabe’s hand, the unfamiliar cool metal sending a shiver up Gabe’s spine. 


End file.
